


the coffeehouse play

by theprimrosepath



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Male Friendship, POV Eraqus, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 05:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17954213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprimrosepath/pseuds/theprimrosepath
Summary: In their forgotten game of chess, Xehanort and Eraqus make a reckless gamble.





	the coffeehouse play

**Author's Note:**

> thank kh3 for this lmao.
> 
> technically this fic isn't canon compliant. i took the scala ad caelum scenes as non-canon a la terra's destiny islands vision, and have completely ignored nomura saying that young xehanort is 18-20 in favor of making him closer to sora's kh1 age when he first meets eraqus. there's also a kh3 secret report that implies xehanort remembers his time traveling shenanigans when ddd said he'd forget, so i've also ignored that. (kh makes sense until you attempt to write fanfiction for it lol.)
> 
> please enjoy this self-indulgent mess.

"When we first met, I thought you seemed familiar," Xehanort tells Eraqus.

Eraqus gives him a look from over the top of his book. As odd and inscrutable as his friend is sometimes, an off-topic outburst like this while they're supposed to be studying is still out-of-character. "Familiar? How so?"

"I don't know. It was ridiculous," Xehanort dismisses. "It's not as if I might have seen you on the islands."

"That only suggests it's important. Keyblade wielders don't have odd feelings for nothing."

"Ugh, more of that blueblood lore?"

Eraqus gives him a dry glower, then swipes at the boots Xehanort has propped up on the coffee table with a foot of his own. Xehanort pulls them back with a snicker. He never ceases to remind him that he's the clueless but brilliant prodigy of the two, while Eraqus lags behind despite the unbroken line of Keyblade wielders in his lineage.

"It's not lore," Eraqus snips, "if it's true."

"Sure," Xehanort drawls. "Mind if you cite the source for me?"

"Lights above, Xe."

He grins at him teasingly in response—but his posture makes it clear that he's intentionally restraining himself from replacing his feet on the table, so Eraqus decides to count this as a win.

"Maybe I seemed familiar because your heart recognized me as a future friend," he says.

At that, Xehanort's smug expression shifts to one of vague, shuttered discomfort.

Eraqus slowly folds over the corner of his page. "... Xe?"

He runs a hand through his hair, and the disquiet vanishes like so much mist in the sun to be replaced with plain ease. "Kes?" he mocks, and Eraqus has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

"It seemed like I said something wrong," he says.

Xehanort looks at him with such genuine perplexity that he almost wonders whether he imagined the unease. "You? Say something wrong?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who pretends they're always right."

"That's because I _am_ always right."

Eraqus snorts and says, "Arrogant bastard," and if it comes out more fondly than he expected...

Well, he doesn't mind. It's worth crossing that line Xehanort always seems to draw between him and the rest of the world—worth it for the warm, surprised laugh that bursts out from him, as Eraqus squeezes past his suspicious mind to push that line further and further.

It's difficult to express why he tries so hard. Xehanort is so standoffish. He always sticks out in every world they visit with their master like a sore thumb, arms crossed and radiating a repellant chill. Even when he makes the effort, Xehanort is never quite friendly or easy enough for most strangers to take to him.

But it's a challenge Eraqus is all too happy to tackle, and the castle is very quiet without a friend, and _maybe_ he's worried.

Xehanort finally loses his willpower and props his boots back up on the table. Eraqus kicks at them again, and Xehanort kicks back with an impromptu sticking-out of his tongue that looks so absurd on his face. Eraqus's laugh becomes a wheezing fit, and it's worth the flush of embarrassment on Xehanort's face to see a smile along with it.

Everyone needs a friend. Eraqus can't stand by and let Xehanort scare him away like everyone else.

———

Late at night, the castle is still and cold. Even the cozy parlors become unsettling in the dark silence.

The library remains comforting, though. Beams of moonlight slice from windows so tall Eraqus always has to lean back to take them in full. They're luminous in the shadows. They cast the familiar bookshelves in an otherworldly light, and when what Eraqus wants is an escape, another world is a comfort.

The bay windows are his favorite place to sit, at day for the natural light, at night for the view. The castle is perched atop the highest point for as far as the eye can see, and the alpine terrain is beautiful beneath the stars.

He leans within the crook between window and wall and gazes, mind blissfully blank.

Then the curtain twitches. Eraqus jumps into a ramrod posture.

One of Xehanort's curious frowns appears as the curtain is pulled back. "Eraqus, you're up late."

"By the Abyss," Eraqus gasps. His hand flew to his chest at some point, and the heart beneath beats like a hummingbird's. "You scared me."

Xehanort's amused now. _He_ never startles. "Who else could I be? The Master?"

"That's not the point. You took me by surprise. I didn't even hear your footsteps." To his dismay, Eraqus can hear a whine in his voice. He slumps back against the wall and rubs his face with his hands before he can realize that it makes him look more pathetic, and then he just lets his hands fall with a sigh. He's too tired for this.

As if cognizant finally of the mood, Xehanort lets the curtain fall back behind him and takes a solemn perch by Eraqus's folded legs.

After he's calmed, Eraqus asks, "Why are you awake this late?"

"I thought I asked that first."

"No, it was a statement. I asked first."

Xehanort scoffs. "Semantics. It was an implied question."

"Semantics," Eraqus mocks.

Without pause or change in expression, Xehanort flicks Eraqus sharply on the knee. Eraqus hisses and glares half-heartedly.

"If you don't want to talk, don't," Xehanort says at length. He scoots over further onto the window seat until he's slouched against the glass. "But you had better not fall asleep here and end up with a sore back when the Master's sparring us later."

"You could be kind enough to carry me to my room," Eraqus says.

"Then I would end up with the sore back."

"Hey."

"You're smiling," Xehanort notes.

He is. Eraqus rolls his eyes but leaves his slender smile be, allowing himself to settle again in the crook of the bay window. It's still comfortable, and for a time, he stares back out at the rolling, calming landscape. But he can't return to that silent peace with Xehanort's sharp presence opposite him.

It's strange. In the past year, Xehanort has grown into a grace that lets him pass unseen as well as charm, but he remains too easy to spot to Eraqus. He's a beacon he can never miss; if there was Xehanort within a crowd of identical illusions, he's almost certain that he could discern him immediately.

He wants to think it's because he knows him so well. Certainly his presence is very palpable when he wants it to be, like now. But more often, part of Eraqus is inexplicably anxious to keep him in mind's eye.

He's not sure why. He doesn't want to look too closely in fear of what he might find.

Eraqus sneaks a glance at Xehanort. His friend isn't looking at him, apparently content to reduce the pressure by staring through the curtains instead. The silver of his hair and eyes gleam like moonlight themselves beneath the stars.

"I couldn't sleep," Eraqus admits quietly. "I needed to get out of my room."

Xehanort hums in acknowledgement.

"Why are you awake?"

"I'm a restless sleeper. I needed a walk," Xehanort replies. "Why can't you sleep?"

Eraqus exhales and presses his cheek against the cold glass. "It's silly," he mutters. Moreover, it's not something he wants to talk about to Xehanort—not when Xehanort is half the reason for it.

"If you feel it, it's not silly. You wouldn't feel something for no reason." His smirk is teasing. "I don't need ancient lore to tell me that."

Eraqus makes a noise of vague annoyance.

Xehanort's gaze weighs heavy on him. "Will you really not talk about it to me?"

Eraqus turns away, unable to tolerate the disappointment and too weak to reply while meeting his eyes. "I'm just worried about the future," he mutters. "I'm not sure if I'll be good enough to become a Master."

There's silence for a moment.

"You know what, you weren't wrong," Xehanort says at last. "That is silly."

"Xe."

"No, Eraqus." A warm hand grips Eraqus's upper arm tight, and his breath catches when he turns to see Xehanort's intent gaze so much closer. "Listen."

Eraqus stills. "I'm listening."

Xehanort's smile is self-satisfied as he says, "Good, it's always so hard to keep your attention," but his hand squeezes his arm reassuringly.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing that I hold against you. Much."

Eraqus scoffs and knocks away his hand finally. "Xe. If this is supposed to reassure me, it's not working."

"You spend half your free time with your nose buried in books and the rest of it in the lab or the courtyard so engrossed in puzzling out this or that that you won't even be bothered to eat," Xehanort continues, unfazed. "You hardly say hi as I shove food into your face. And that's why your worries are unfounded."

Eraqus stares at the gleam of his dark skin. "What do you mean?"

"You're one of the cleverest people I've met. If there's a problem without a solution, or a question without an answer, you are the one person I would always trust to find such a thing once you've set your mind to it. You're relentless. Mastering the Keyblade—that's no different. Everything we've learned, you've learned it well. I promise you, if I've noticed, so has the Master."

As Xehanort speaks, Eraqus feels his jaw drop in astonishment. His friend's gaze is intent; every word is so sincere that they border on awe. It's something he's had rare occasion to witness.

"Besides, you're her favorite," he adds. "You'll be fine."

Eraqus laughs at that, incredulous. "Are you serious? You're her favorite, not me."

Xehanort tilts his head and narrows his eyes in an expression of such disbelief that Eraqus is struck to stillness again. "Why in the worlds would I be her favorite? She practically _raised_ you."

"Well... you spend so much time together."

"Because you keep yourself so busy, and she doesn't want to interrupt you, and I'm not yet allowed to travel off-world without her supervision, of course." Xehanort says this with bemusement. "The Master likes me, sure, but she humors me. I'm really a rather demanding student."

Eraqus stares, dumb.

Finally, he asks at length, "Did you just criticize yourself?"

"Personally, I think it's a virtue. But I get the impression that the Master doesn't always find me endearing." Xehanort sniffs as he says this, and the play at haughtiness pulls a snicker from Eraqus. With a smirk blooming, Xehanort adds, "See? Another smile. How good of a friend am I?"

"Xehanort."

"I know the lack of nickname is to seem angry, but you're still smiling."

Eraqus shoves at Xehanort's chest, trying to wrestle the referenced smile off his face. An _oof_ escapes his friend's lungs as he catches himself on the seat with a hand. His grin gleams white in the moonlight.

"Watch it. I might have fallen off and cracked my head open on the floor," he kids.

"What a shame, you've got such a big head. It could use some deflating," Eraqus teases. But not for the first time, the words strike a strange chord inside him.

Their master has waxed long in their lessons about the consequences of indulging those self-centered preoccupations: pride, greed, gluttony, and so on. Left unchecked, they will betray the central tenets of wielding the Keyblade—to protect the worlds, to serve the Light. Keyblades bent to another purpose are dangerous. They risk corruption and exposure to darkness.

While Eraqus receives lectures like these with the diligence he affords everything else, Xehanort has always questioned. His tact is more talented than his self-control, so his subversive responses—asking after the balance or the natural presence of darkness in everything—attract little disapproval from their master in the moment. Though perhaps that's changed. _I'm really a rather demanding student._

Thankfully, he's admitted to impatience far more directly to Eraqus in private. Their ensuing discussions and Eraqus's own explanations always seem to satisfy him. But anxiety prods at his heart. Should he be more worried?

Xehanort's noise of mock umbrage draws Eraqus back to good humor. He may be demanding, but he's always been a good student. The better of the two, even, in so many things.

More importantly, though, Xehanort isn't alone. Eraqus will ensure he stays on the right track.

He smirks at him without fear. "Should I pop it right now?"

"Oh, you—"

Without a glimpse of a hint to his broad grin, Xehanort lunges forward. In half a second, Eraqus's head is shoved under Xehanort's arm and one of his wrists pinned to the wall behind him. He flails with his free hand, but Xehanort pins that one, too, before he can get in more than a single gut punch.

His friend wheezes. "Cheeky boy."

"I'm literally only eight months younger than you." Eraqus squirms in search of a weakness, but Xehanort's hold is firm. "Let me go, your armpit stinks."

"You don't sound only eight months younger," Xehanort says, but Eraqus is too distracted to respond as he realizes he has found footing.

_Victory._

Eraqus digs his heels into the cushions and, with a heave, drives his shoulder into Xehanort's chest. In a flash, their positions are reversed; his unprepared friend is knocked backwards with ease, and Eraqus is quick to catch his wrists against the seat and plant his weight on Xehanort's legs to prevent escape.

Immediately, Xehanort tries to thrash out. But Eraqus has him securely caged.

His glare is peeved.

Eraqus grins and pants, "Ha. Ready to be humble yet?"

"Please. It's not arrogance if I'm only being honest." Xehanort's eyes twinkle as he lifts his chin in a lofty smirk. The gesture exposes the long line of his throat. Beneath his head, silver hair sprawls about like a halo of moonlight.

Something in Eraqus urges him to lean forward, so he does.

"I beg to differ," he says.

Xehanort's eyes are wide now and flicker down and up. Without thought, Eraqus reaches with a hand to tap the temple of the other boy's head. He notes abstractly how soft his hair feels. "You might be a brilliant student. But that doesn't mean your head can't be blown up with pride."

His look is unimpressed, but something in the corners of his eyes soften. There's a silver to them in the moonlight that mesmerizes Eraqus, and he forgets how close he is.

"Are you?"

There's a strange light to Xehanort's gaze now. Mouth dry, Eraqus asks, "What?"

"Begging."

Something calloused and warm cups his face, and Eraqus loses whatever thread of a snide response he was grasping at. All the air catches in his throat. Instead, he zeroes in on the sensation of Xehanort's thumb brushing the arch of his cheek.

It feels _good_. The warmth welling up inside his heart—he was afraid of it. But now he can't remember why.

In the silence, he can hear Xehanort's breathing quicken. "Is it seriously this easy to shut you up?"

That lights a spark in the haze. "Oh, please. You're going to have to try a little harder than that," Eraqus says, and the breathlessness with which it comes out startles him.

But he forgets the falter when Xehanort's gaze sharpens into glittering mischief. "Really?"

Xehanort's other hand tugs its way out from beneath Eraqus's distracted hold. With a soft grunt, he hoists himself up on one hand; his other hand slides to the back of Eraqus's neck, and then he's pressing his lips to his. It's over nearly before it begins. But Xehanort doesn't pull away far. A shiver runs down Eraqus's spine at the puffs of Xehanort's breath on his lips.

"What in the worlds," he breathes.

There's a flicker of anxiety across Xehanort's face, so ill-fitting. The grip he has on Eraqus's neck twitches, but he says nothing.

Eraqus exhales a laugh. Of course he can't _ask_. To admit a lack of self-confidence is rarely anything less than a cardinal sin for Xehanort. It's ridiculous, and he half-wants to roll his eyes in his exasperation and flick the boy in the forehead. But the warmth in his belly makes him feel forgiving, so instead Eraqus leans down. He hasn't done this often, so his kiss is cautiously light.

Xehanort makes a soft sound and presses back. His fingers shift to bury themselves in Eraqus's hair. Eraqus has to struggle to keep a smile from his lips as he presses down further to deepen the kiss.

In response, locks of his hair are tugged from their tie, and a noise gets caught in his throat. Every inch of his nerves are alight. Eraqus has never allowed himself to dwell on the thought of doing this before, so a distant part of him is surprised by the intensity of how much he _wants_.

Xehanort's cheek burns warm where his nose brushes it. He raises a hand, suddenly desperate to have Xehanort's hair tangled in his own fingers.

And then Eraqus is thrown off the window seat.

He is absolutely unprepared. One second, Xehanort has pulled away presumably for breath—the next, curtains are fluttering, and what little air is left in Eraqus's lungs is knocked out of them as he lands akimbo on the hard library floor.

He gasps and stares wide-eyed at the shadows of the high ceiling. That _hurt_.

Cushions creak, and a moment later Xehanort is leaning over him. His breath, too, comes harsh and fast in the silence of the library, and even in the pale moonlight, the dark flush of his face is clear. 

He stares down. Dazed, Eraqus can only stare back, and something clenches inside him to watch Xehanort's eyes darken.

But Xehanort doesn't bend down further. "I said I'd shut you up." The smugness is weakened somewhat by the breathless way he speaks, still staring hungrily at him.

Eraqus tries to piece together a reply more coherent than _please kiss me again_ , but before he can, Xehanort turns abruptly and leaves. He gapes as he watches his back disappear.

What in the Abyss just happened?

In his bewilderment, Eraqus doesn't notice the shadows creeping over the library until every beloved beam of moonlight from before has gone dim. He can glimpse the soft slope of a cloud through the gaps in the bay window curtains. Slowly and with a groan, he sits up to watch it pass.

His back aches all over. Xehanort is such a hypocrite, to upbraid him for risking sleep at a window and then follow it by tossing him onto the floor. He'll simply have to return the favor during their spar in the morning.

Moonlight glimmers through the curtains again. Eraqus raises fingertips to his lips, still tingling with the memory of recent pressure.

He'll return the favor, if he can manage to get any sleep.

———

Eraqus is fifteen when another boy joins his studies.

It's an important tradition to have at least two heirs to the Land of Departure's ancient legacy, Eraqus's master has told him more than once—an imperative passed down from the very first caretaker of their home. One to tend to the nest and teach future generations; one to take flight and seek the light across distant lands.

It's the latter who takes up the nameless Keyblade. It hangs above the mantelpiece in one of the castle parlors and is always somewhat dusty from its lack of use, since the Master's master never took a second apprentice himself.

Eraqus has no taste for it, personally. In spite of the fireplace, that parlor has always felt colder than every other room for its presence. And the ornamental eye set within its blade, that blank gleam... it uneases him. _Keyblade wielders never have odd feelings for nothing,_ his mother once told him. 

She was right. One day, he couldn't leave his bed from how ill he was, and the next, she was gone.

With that in mind, he peers at the dark-skinned boy standing before him with cautious intensity, proffers his hand, and says, "Hi." Eraqus has no intention of missing any signs about the new student moving into his home.

His master is smiling. She's already pleased by his seeming enthusiasm. "Xehanort, this is Eraqus. He's been studying with me for some years already. His mother and I were in training at the same time."

The other boy has an odd wrinkle to his nose and brow as he shakes his hand. "Hello."

Eraqus sniffs. He doesn't think anything smells bad. "Is this your first time away from your homeworld?"

"Yes. Have you always... lived here?"

He doesn't miss the tinge of jealousy to the other boy's words. It's odd, to be reminded that his life is neither common nor mundane. Being a Keyblade Master is all Eraqus has ever imagined for his future. "For the most part, yeah. It's been my home since I was really young. What about your home? Is it nice?"

"It's only a couple of tiny islands. Nothing of much interest ever happens there."

"I've never been to any islands before. It must be beautiful."

Xehanort hesitates at that, and the way the derision in his expression softens eases something in Eraqus before he's even noticed his own tension. "Yeah. It is."

"Perhaps we can pay a visit together soon," his master suggests. _Their_ master, now. "For now, though, how about we show Xehanort around the castle? You can take the lead, Eraqus."

Xehanort turns to him with visible interest.

The new boy has yet to strike Eraqus as anything more peculiar than a bit strange in personality, perhaps, and his apparent earnestness about becoming an apprentice here is already warming Eraqus to the prospect. The castle is too large for only two—and as much as he loves his master, she's not much of an ideal friend. It will be nice to finally play chess with someone new.

"This place is definitely very different from an island. I hope you don't mind," he says.

"Oh, I promise you," Xehanort replies with a smile, "I don't mind in the least."

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [@primrose-path-of-dalliance](https://primrose-path-of-dalliance.tumblr.com) on tumblr, where i post fandom things and the occasional bit of writing.


End file.
